My horse is called AbiDaisy.

I was on her when the scuffle

happened thank god. These guys are not great guys so I get
winged with a bullet along whatever organs are on the right
side, so Abi and I are tearing out of there. I’m holding my
bloody side and I don’t like that I can feel things where my
skin should be. But I’m not worried. We’re only a mile from
home and those guys were already about to pass out so they’re
not following. Just got to get there.

She’s really doing all the work. I can’t kick her and the reins
are loose. There’s no moon so I couldn’t see even if I could
lift my head. She’s getting us there on her own. It makes me
feel so good to have a good horse. I get sleepy. Oh no. I know
this. Dizzy, fuzzy, darkening vision. It’s okay. We’re only a
1/4 mile from home where bandages and alcohol are. Snap open,
eyes. Oh no. Snap open. It’s not going to work.

I passed out. When my eyes slitted open the sun was coming up.
Orange white. I was still on Abi. I had done this thing where I
wrap the leather around my wrist and the horn so I won’t fall
off. That wasn’t a concern. I just didn’t know why the sun was
coming up when this was last night. Oh. I’ve been out for 8
hours. On this horse. And she’s still running. How far have we
gone. I can see the cabin though. Even the gate far off to the
side of us. How could it have taken so long? What were we doing
all night?

We run towards the blunt angle of our fence. 1/4 mile from
home. I’m not in control. I’m not mostly even awake yet. We
bounce off the fence and turn left and wind up running into
some barrels that she can’t jump. So she banks left again, runs
20 yards, ends up facing this big patch of reeds I know she’s
scared of because of the snake bite last year, anyway, she
banks right this time for a reason I don’t get and now we’re
clopping towards the gate. Great, okay, finally, she solved it.
She stammers at the gate, pausing, thinking. I only have a
second. But it’s latched. I almost get the energy to reach for
it but I just can’t. I don’t know. So then we loop again.
Fence, barrels, reeds, gate. The gate. This time I swear I got
the latch to move but not fast enough and Abi’s on her way
again. Except this time we seem to change up the left and right
sometimes. Fence, reeds, gate, barrels? How are you deciding
this? Wait, I’m bleeding. That’s more important. But also, now
I can see the ground that’s been trod on all through the night,
all clamped down with hoof prints, pounded into a small ravine
that she just kept deepening. Wait, I’m bleeding.

I get the gate open, get off Abi, get to the porch with some
bandages. It’s going to be fine. I sit there watching Abi.
She’s still running in that loop from before. A little slower
like maybe she’s winding down but she’s still going, making
some kind of decision of left or right at each port. Fence,
reeds, barrels, gate. Never the same loop but always the same
four stops. I think that’s okay. You have to get it out of your

Made in Highland
system. It was all night, you know?
 2.

I figured I’d go stand over near her, take some oats so maybe
she’ll sort of redirect, but she was going to run herself out
anyway and I really did need to lay down.

Made in Highland